The Choices We Make
by Sidney James TD Lemon 1900
Summary: Three women. The mother of my child, my faithful companion, or my firey passion. How do I choose?" While Cal contemplates over his lovelife, the group deals with a case that puts them all in danger, Cal especially. T for future violence and then some.
1. Chapter 1

Right, so this is my first _Lie to Me_ fic. I got the inspiration because...well, our Cal is so popular with the ladies, so I thought I'd throw some conflicts in there to jazz it up some. The new character, Clara, is going to actually appear later this season (thanks to lietomescoop . com ) and I thought she'd really spice things up for a romance. While I've been writing fanfics for a while, this is my first romance one, so let me know how it goes. I'm going to try and stay as true to the show and their characters as possible, so let me know if I start to stray away. Feedback is wonderful, I really want this story to work out. This beginning bit is just a short warm up to see how you guys like it. Hopefully more will be up later today/tomorrow.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the concept or characters of _Lie to Me_, they all belong to **FOX**, god bless 'em.

* * *

1.

He stood in the doorway of his dark and empty home for a moment, taking in the silence. He heaved a sigh and listened as it echoed throughout his home as he shut the door behind him. Normally, he would have been sad to not hear the chipper voice of his daughter to greet him.

Tonight, however, Cal Lightman was glad to be alone. A rare time for him to sulk and be alone with his thoughts. No masks here, he could simply be himself and let his emotions flow. Cal trudged into his kitchen and went for freezer where a full bottle of Crown Royale was waiting for him. He had bought it months ago during a particular difficult case, but had never gotten around to drinking it. He didn't like to drink when Emily was around anyway. But tonight she was at Zoe's.

_Zoe_...

Cal shook the memories of earlier that day from his head as he tipped the bottle to a short glass. He took a large gulp, then filled it back up again, this time to the rim. He thought about leaving the bottle on the counter, but decided to take it with him to the living room. He didn't bother taking his coat and scarf off, but simply plopped down onto the couch, setting the whiskey on the table next to him. He stared into the glass as his thoughts drifted.

_Women_. They were so damned complicated. He tried not to, but his mind began to drift through the days events. Their current case was going nowhere, his team was falling apart and so were his relationships. Yes, relationships, as in plural. _Why can't I just be normal and have_ one _functional relationship?_ A quick smirk crept onto his lips and then faded as he raised the amber drink to his mouth. _Functional. That's the bloody key word there. Yeah, right. _

He sighed and stared off in no particular direction. _I've got three choices. The mother of my child, my faithful companion, and my firey passion. How the bloody hell do I choose? Who will make my life functional? Who do I want to be standing next to in the future? _

Cal decided that now was not the time to make that choice. Things would unfold in due time. For the moment, he simply decided to spend some quality time with some whiskey and the silence of his home.

* * *

_And from here, I'll rewind and fill in all the blanks. This is just the idea of the story. And a super cool case to go along with it, hopefully. I like to toss in as much action as possible, along with the mushy stuff. Lemme know whatchya think, luvs! And I'll try to have more up soon. That is, if I get the feedback that I should. If not, I'll begin writing my other story idea...s..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Right, this chapter is a bit slow, i know, but hang in there with me! Mystery woman is coming up next chapter, as is some romance and action. this is just setting up the case. I would've written more, but I had a theater performance tonight and work at 6 tomorrow morning, followed by another showing tomorrow night, so i will try and have more up by the end of the weekend when all the madness is over. thanks and let me know what you think...otherwise i'll just...stop...oh...no..._

_-k. _

* * *

**2.**

_One Month Earlier_

"You're lying," Cal said as he jabbed his right index finger into the air at his target. A small smirk flicked across his face as he stared into the face of his prey, who was beginning to look a bit intimidated. He studied the soft face, eyes going back and forth over it until he saw the confirmation.

There. There it was. Guilt. It was quick flash of the expression. Hell, he nearly missed it, she was rather good at concealing her emotions.

Of course, she'd have to be good at it, being the daughter of a human lie detector.

"Dad," Emily sighed, now avoiding eye contact all together. "It's not big deal, really…"

Cal grinned and stepped forward to stare down at his daughter. "Oh yeah? No big deal?" Emily tried taking a step back, but he kept on her. "Ditchin' your old man, eh?"

Emily sighed. " I'm not _ditching_ you," she said, using her fingers to put quotations around 'ditching' and rolling her eyes, "I have to go to Sarah's to study.

"Like bloody hell you are. Know how many times I've heard that '_study'_ excuse?" Cal replied, also mocking quotations, "Enough times that I know it's a load of bollocks. You're going to go hang out with Dick, aren't you?"

Emily stopped cowering for a moment and stood up a bit straighter, crossing her arms and now matching the menacing look that her father was used to giving. "_Rick_, Dad, Rick. Get it right." Yup, there it was, she was on the defensive. He had nailed it.

There was a pause as the two Lightmans glared into each others faces. At last, there was a knock on the door to break it. Lightman jerked his head up, but did not break eye contact with his daughter. "Not now!" he called, even though he knew it was going to be ignored. The door flew open. _Why do they even bother knocking?_

"Lightman-…oh, hey Em," Loker said anxiously as he stuck his head in.

"Hi, Eli," Emily sighed, thankful that someone had come to her rescue.

Cal flashed an annoyed look at Loker, which had become something of an everyday action as of late. "What is it?"

Loker waved a blue file in the air. "Case. Important. Foster wants you."

"Well, it's going to have to wait-…"

Loker cut him off loudly. "Actually, it can't. Client is here right now and is pretty upset. Foster needs you now."

Cal heaved a sighed and flicked his hand in a sweeping motion, as if to sweep Loker out of his office and into a large dustpan. _If only._ Eli took the hint, shot Emily an apologetic look, and ducked out of the office.

Em turned around to take her father head on. "See? You're busy now anyway. Can't do lunch. Can I go now?"

Lightman took a deep breath and glared at Emily. "Fine. But you owe me. Raincheck. And you can't ditch me for Di…Rick, next time."

Emily smirked the same lopsided smirk of her father. "Fine," she said, turning to leave.

"So you admit it?"

Emily glanced over her shoulder. "Admit _what?_" she mocked.

It was all Cal could do to keep from smiling at his amazingly ridiculous daughter. He waved his hand quickly saying, "Go on, scat, get outta 'ere."

About five minutes later, Lightman strolled carefully into the lab, where Foster stood outside the Cube rather impatiently, tapping her blue heels. "Glad you could join us."

"Yea, likewise. Whas' goin' on?" he peered inside to see a very well dressed young man pacing inside the Cube. The man looked extremely anxious and somewhat upset. Well, perhaps the term 'man' wasn't correct. He didn't even look old enough to drink. It was just the suit and slicked back dark hair that made his appearance older and sophisticated.

Loker, who was sitting, or lounging, rather, in the chair by the desk, picked up the blue file and flipped it open to read. "Uh, the guy's name is Robert Martin, he's the son of Edward Martin-…"

Lightman stopped him. "Edward Martin?" he asked, "As in, the billionaire guy with the big mansion outside of DC?"

Loker nodded. "Yep."

"Right. Carry on."

"Actually, that's about it." Loker snapped the file shut. "He won't tell us anything else. The only person he wants to talk to is you." He pointed a finger at Lightman, who quickly slapped it away.

"Oi, I get to point the fingers, not you." He clapped his hands and rubbed them together excitedly. "Right then, let's see what the rich kid wants with us."

Loker and Foster watched carefully as Cal strolled into the Cube rather nonchalantly. "Let's hope this is good," Loker mumbled, "because if so, it's gonna be one hell of a paycheck for us, right?"

Gillian suppressed a grin and nodded. "Let's hope so,"

Inside, Lightman sat down in one of the two black chairs in the room. "So, Robert," he began as he flipped the file open only to find that there was nothing in there, as Loker pointed out. He snapped it shut and rested it on his crossed legs. "Why don'chya tell me what's going on."

Robert finally stopped pacing and stood behind the chair opposite to Lightman, resting his hands on the back of it and leaned forward. "My father is about to die," he said bluntly with a dash of worry.

Lightman pursed his lips and nodded. "I see…is he ill?"

"No, I mean I think someone is going to try and kill him." Robert said, now sounding faintly annoyed, and his face matched.

"Why don't you sit down there, son?" Cal offered, but Robert waved him off and he decided not to push it. " 'ave you talked to the police-?"

Robert cut him off and began to pace again. "Of course I have, what sort of idiot do you think I am? I've got no evidence whatsoever so they can't help me at all."

"Why do you think…never mind, stupid question. Richest man on the east coast." Cal shook his head and moved onto the next obvious question. "Right, then who do you think is after your dear dad?"

The boy stopped and stared at Cal with an empty, sad look in his eyes. "My mother."

Outside the Cube, Loker and Foster exchanged glances. "Oh, this is gonna be good," Loker muttered.

* * *

_Remember, this is just the set up! More is coming! Thanks for the reading and *cough* reviews..._


	3. Chapter 3

3.

As the young man Robert carried on pacing around the Cube anxiously, Cal reclined further into his chair, legs stretched and hands folded loosely together. "Right, so, lemme get this straight," he drawled. "You think that your…_mum_ is going to kill your dad."

Robert nodded, now rubbing his neck. "Yes,"

Cal nodded. "Alright. Just making sure," he said quite casually, "And what makes you think that?"

As the boy answered, Cal watched him carefully, eyes moving back and forth as he read over Robert's face and body. "Well, she's my step mom, actually-…"

Outside the Cube, Loker snorted, then contained his mild laughter as Foster shot him a quick and disapproving glance. "..that explains everything…" he uttered.

Meanwhile inside, the young man continued, "…she only married him for his money. I knew it from the start…I told him so! But he didn't believe me…told me some crap about how I don't understand love, too young to understand…"

"Yea, how old _are _you exactly?" Lightman asked, squinting his eyes some.

The boy paused and gave him an unsteady look. "Twenty-one," he answered.

Cal smirked and shook his head. "No, son, you're not." The boy furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth to retaliate, but Cal cut him off, "And I wouldn't suggest lying again if you want me to help you at all," he pointed his hands to himself, "I'm the 'Lie Guy', r'member?"

Robert's shoulders dropped slightly in defeat. "Seventeen."

"'S what I thought. So, I take it you an' your step mum don't get along then?"

Robert shook his head. "No. She hates me. The only thing she cares about is waiting for dad to die so she can make off with his money and then ship me off to boarding school in Europe to 'make me a man'," he said scornfully. His mouth twitched in contempt as he spoke, but Cal didn't feel the need to point that micro-expression out. It was already pretty clear the kid hated this woman. Typical. "She's been acting…suspicious lately. I _know _she's up to something…"

Cal stretched hi s arm out to the boy and gestured to the other chair. "Son, you wanna sit? You're gonna wear a hole into my floor there if you keep that up." Robert stopped his mad pacing and hesitated before taking a seat opposite of Cal, who gave him a reassuring nod. "Right, so I take it you want _me _to have a chat with her and see what her true intentions in this whole thing are?"

"I already know what her intentions are," the boy answered coldly. "But yes. I need proof against her. I've tried talking to Dad about it…but he just tells me that I'm young and jealous…"

Outside the Cube, Foster was making mental notes of the building case while Loker stared blankly off into the distance, occasionally glancing at his shoe and wondered where that mustard stain had come from…but his thoughts were lost as the a door opened and the sound of heels entered the room.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" Torres asked curiously, glancing at the productive Foster and the extremely unproductive Loker, who quickly sat up straight in his chair and pretended to look…productive.

"New case," he answered mildly, running a hand through his hair quickly. "Rich kid's got it for his step mom. Or rather, thinks that she's got it in for his dad."

Torres raised an eyebrow, and Foster filled her in properly. "He thinks his step mother is going to kill his father, but it doesn't look like he's got any proof."

Ria crossed her arms and stared into the Cube, where Lightman continued to interview the boy. "He looks pretty freaked, that's for sure." Torres paused and scanned her eyes across the bare desk that Loker sat in front of. "We got a file on him or his family at all?"

"No, the Martins like to keep a low profile apparently."

"Martins? As in-…"

"The rich folks just outside of DC who have home decorating competitions with the Obamas? Yes." Loker replied quickly.

"Don't they have dog races too?"

Foster cleared her throat. "Anyway, Edward Martin has used his ah, influences to keep him and his family out of sight, meaning no profile. So it looks like we'll have to do our own digging on them."

"Sounds like fun."

Just then, the door to the Cube opened and Lightman strolled out with his usual swagger. "Right, well, it looks like we'll be going undercover again to check out his mum. No way we'll be able to get her in here." He tossed the empty blue file onto the desk and glanced up at Ria. "Torres, glad you could join us. Mind escorting our boy out of here?" With a very slight eyeroll, she nodded and left to go tend to their young client. "Loker, I wanchya to find Reynolds and see what the pair of you can dig up on the Martins." Eli nodded and spun out of his chair, leaving Lightman and Foster alone. "As for you, Foster," Cal said with a cheeky grin, "you're with me."

She let a small smile play at the edge of her lips as he turned to lead them from the room. "As usual," she sighed quietly. Gillian quickly followed him from the room and walked beside him down the corridor of The Lightman Group. "So what exactly are we doing now?"

He tossed a glance over his shoulder, seeing that she was struggling to keep up in her heels, so he slowed his strides down to a mild walk. "Well for starters," he said as he made a turn into the break room, "I'm famished and gonna make a sandwich." Cal reached for the refrigerator and smirked at Foster. "Care to join?"

She smiled and nodded."Of course,"

Cal's tiny smirk grew into a smile as he turned back to the fridge to inspect it's contents. He was pleasantly surprised to see that a sandwich had already been made up, sat beautifully on a paper plate, and had a post-it hanging off the edge of it with the word _Dad _scrolled across it, with a girly heart drawn under it. Cal swiped it up and spun around to show it to Gillian. "Lookie here, my daughter has a heart after all." Cal sat himself across from her.

"And you suspected otherwise?"

"She ditched our lunch today for Dick," he said as he took a huge bite from the sandwich.

"Rick?" Gillian corrected, trying to hide her smile.

Cal worked hard to quickly swallow his food before replying. "'S what I said."

"She really likes him you know,"

"Yea, _I know_," he answered in a smart tone, taking another bite. "She's too young to be dating. An' I don't like 'im…" Gillian couldn't help but chuckle as Cal ranted against the kid. There was something about hearing a man with an accent rage on about things, especially if that accented man was both British and Cal. For a moment, she stopped listening all together and just watched him babble and eat, lost in her own thoughts. He was lucky to have a daughter to rant about and worry over. She sometimes found herself jealous of the Lightman family, no matter how messed up they seemed to be sometimes. Cal began to wave his hand around as he spoke, bringing Gillian back into focus. "…an' it certainly doesn't help that Zoe is always bloody encouraging her to be reckless…damn pills. I'm surprised she didn't buy her a pack of condoms for Christmas," he paused to swallow, "…an' then she dumps it all on me!"

"No, she doesn't. Zoe worries just as much as you do, like any mother would." Gillian said softly, wondering what it would be like to be a mother for a brief moment.

"Yea, well, she sure doesn't act like it. Drives me insane." Cal stopped, looking down at his nearly finished sandwich. "Sorry luv, didn't even ask, you want some? Or you want me to make you something?" he offered, holding his plate up.

Gillian waved it off. "No thanks, I've got something back in my office."

"Please tell me its actual food and not pudding." Gillian wiggled her eyebrows with a coy smile. "God almighty…" he sighed.

Gillian stood from her chair and smoothed out her skirt, looking down at Cal. "Speaking of which, I think I'm going to go start nibbling on that and get a bit of paperwork done before we get started on the Martins. You going to get a hold of me when you get some more information?"

"Yeah, soon as I hear from Loker and Reynolds."

Gillian nodded. "Great, I'll see you later then?"

"Of course, luv."

* * *

Cal had every intention to sneak into the study to catch a nap as he headed to his office. There were definitely some perks to having a couch in that cozy back room of his. However, he was sadly disappointed when he opened his office door to find a tall, beautiful, dark hair woman leaning on the edge of his desk, arms crossed.

"Hello, Cal," she greeted cooly.

He groaned internally and nodded his head. "Zoe,"

She stood up straight as he walked right by her, still heading to his study. "Where's Emily? I thought you two were doing lunch today."

"I had an interesting client to deal with and she decided to ditch me for her new boyfriend," he called over his shoulder from the study. There was a pause and he popped his head out the second door. "Was he your idea?" he asked suspiciously.

Zoe smirked. "No, Cal, he wasn't. She met him at school. And he's a very nice young man-…"

"You're lying," as he ducked his head back in, this time heading to the couch.

Zoe sighed and slowly followed him into the darkened study. "No, I'm not. You may be the lie expert but you're just saying that because you're miffed that she's got a new interest. Really, Cal, he's a nice guy. Give him a chance."

He scoffed as he cleared some old folders and papers off the couch, sweeping them into a pile onto the floor. "Yea, well, whatever. What are you doin' here anyway?" Cal quickly plopped himself onto the couch, stretching his legs out to the other end.

"Just wanted to say hi to her. And she left her cell phone charger at the house, she texted me and asked me to bring it by."

Cal stretched his arm out and waved his fingers. "I'll give it to her when she comes back," he studied Zoe as she began digging through her purse. "…why else are you here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't looked me in the eyes or moved your face at all. Which means you're trying to hide something," he replied smugly, knowing he had her pinned.

She rolled her eyes as she handed the charger to him. "It's nothing-…"

He raised his eyebrows and pointed his trademark finger at her. "Liar," he teased.

After a moment, Zoe sighed, placed her hands on her hips and finally looked straight at him. "I…just wanted to see how you were doing." When Cal said nothing for a moment, she continued, "I didn't see you at Christmas…after you came back from Afghanistan…"

"Ah, right," he shrugged his shoulders, "I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

She raised her eyebrow and gave him a look. "Really? Because I know how you are," as she spoke, Zoe walked to the couch and sat down on the other end on top of his outstretched legs. He made an uncomfortable noise, which satisfied her slightly, then moved his legs so she could sit, and placed his legs on her lap. "…and I know what that sort of place can do to you." She watched as he said nothing, only staring at her. Probably reading her to see if she was being genuinely concerned. "Emily was really upset by it."

"Yea, I know. We talked about it," Cal recalled.

"And…I was scared too."

"You didn't even know until you came back-…"

"It still scared the living daylights out of me that you went over there. Practically jumped at the chance, I'm sure." Again. Shrug. "Cal, I know you're a thrill seeker, but my god, you can't go running off into the battlefield when we've got a teenage daughter here. I travel all the time, and that's because _you_ convinced me to stay so that _you _could spend time with our daughter."

"Zoe, I was doing my job."

"I know, but just keep in mind that your job is just a suit. Being a father isn't a suit. Remember?"

Cal opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as he saw an angel stick her head into the study. "Hi Dad-…oh…hey Mom!" said Emily.

"Hi," they both chimed together.

Emily cringed as she saw her father and mother actually touching body parts. "Er, you guys aren't doing it again, are you?"

The parents exchanged alarmed looks and Cal quickly withdrew his feet from Zoe's lap, planting them on the floor and sitting up right. "No no, god no."

"Did you need something, sweetheart?" Zoe answered quietly. Cal looked up. _Was that deflection?_ He shook his head. _Nah. _

"Charger?"

"Oh, I gave it to your father…"

Cal reached behind him where he had placed the charger on the side table. "Yea, luv, here you go." As Emily walked into the study to get it, Cal saw a lanky figure behind her standing awkwardly in his office. "I see you brought 'im along…" he growled.

"Be nice," Emily warned dangerously.

"'ello D-…" Cal started, but stopped as Emily lightly kicked him in the shin before walking back over to the door by the boy. "…Rick."

The kid nodded quickly and waved a hand. "Hello, Mister Lightman," he stopped and shook his head, "Sorry, um, Doctor. Doctor Lightman."

Cal smirked smugly at the sight of Rick being so nervous. It was probably one of his favorite parts of being a father, scaring the shat out of young boys.

Emily, however, did not find it amusing. "Right well, thank you father, mother," she said cheekily, "and we will be on our way now."

"Oi, where are you going?"

"Back to Mom's."

Cal shot Zoe a look, who had moved from the couch to the doorway by now. "You know about this?"

"Yes…"

"You going to be there to keep an eye on them?" he drilled.

"Dad…" Emily hissed.

"I was going to head that way, yes."

"Good. I want pillows between them on the couch and hand checks every ten minutes."

Emily looked mortified. "_Dad!"_

"Shut up, Cal, I've got it." Zoe sighed, ushering the teenagers from the room. "C'mon, I'll walk you kids out,"

"Oi, Zoe…" Cal stood and strolled to the door by her, "we gonna finish this later?" he asked quietly.

"I'll call you."

Cal nodded and shut the study door behind her as she left, then moved back to the couch to finish what he had started. A nap. "'Bout bloody time," he mumbled to himself as he closed his eyes. Sadly, not one minute later, there was a knock on the door and he groaned. "What?" he snapped.

Much to his dismay, it was Loker. "Hey, Lightman. Got stuff on the Martins."

"Already?"

"Reynolds is god at this stuff," Loker shrugged.

Cal sighed and sat up again. "Right then, let's get to work."

* * *

_Tah dah! Getting everything into motion. More to come, very soon. Let me know what you think! And the new chick is coming soon, I promise. I had to get this out of the way first. It's all organized up in my brain, I swear. Cheers- K. _


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

After rounding up Foster and Torres, Lightman made his way to meet everyone in the lab where Loker and Reynolds were waiting. "Alright, what do we have on the Martins?" he demanded as he walked in.

"Well, billionaire, we knew that…" Loker started quietly, but Reynolds cut him off.

"Edward Martin," he began, reading off a freshly printed file paper, "56 years old, and oil business executive. Not too much else there…he's got a clean record. His wife, Clara, is thirty-five years old and his fellow business partner as of late. Also a clean record, used to be a substitute teacher for middle school."

"Really? How in the hell did those two hook up?"

She was Rob's teacher." Reynolds flashed an intrigued look and shrugged. "Apparently they run the company together, which does put her in a suspicious position because if he goes, it'll leave his entire empire to her."

"So she's sorta like Anna Nicole then?" Lightman commented as he wandered to one of the tables and leaned against it.

"Oh, no. Anna truly loved Marshall," Loker joked from the corner.

"How long have they been married?" Lightman asked.

"Two years,"

"Hm. Seems suspicious enough to investigate."

Reynolds sighed and dropped the file onto a table. "Lightman, we can't conduct a full scale investigation just because their seventeen year old son has a _feeling_ that his mom's going to kill his dad."

"I didn't say full scale now did I? I just mean we ought to look into it."

Reynolds crossed his arms. "Yeah? And how exactly are you going to do that?"

"Oh, you know me. I've got a way with the ladies," Cal winked, "This accent will get me anywhere."

From behind him, Gillian smiled and rolled her eyes, silently agreeing. "I'll see if I can arrange you two to meet."

"Thanks, Gill."

"Hang on just a minute," Reynolds started, "what exactly do you intend on doing here?"

"Seduce her into telling me her deepest secrets and darkest desires, of course." Cal replied with a wink. "How do you think? I'm just gonna be a casual business acquaintance, see if she's holding anything back and get a proper read on her."

"Casual…are we talking Vegas casual or just _casual_ casual?" Reynolds mumbled, half hoping that Cal wouldn't hear. However, he did and got a flashing look in return and an odd look from Gillian as well. Ben crossed his arms, took a step back and glanced unsteadily at Gillian, regretting what he had said. He knew that Cal's playtime in Vegas had hurt her and he shook his head slightly in minor disgust for the man (when Lightman wasn't looking of course). Sure, he was a genius at deception and a respectable man in general, but there were some things about him that Ben Reynolds would never understand.

Like, for example, how on earth could that man be so blind?

But these thoughts were interrupted as Cal clapped his hands together. "Right then, let's get goin'," he said, and then waved a hand at Torres and Loker, "Oi, you two, you know what to do. Buzz off." They nodded, sighed, and retreated. Lightman turned to Foster, opening his mouth to say something, but she cut him off.

"Meeting with Mrs. Martin. Got it," she said curtly, now somewhat irked for some reason. With a look to both Cal and Ben, she left the room.

Lightman rounded on Reynolds. "Well, thanks for that,"

"Hey, it's the truth. It's what you're all about right?" Cal narrowed his eyes and gave him a threatening look as he left the room, leaving Ben to himself. "Well, that went well," he sighed.

* * *

Two days later on a snowy afternoon, Cal Lightman stood in his bedroom looking in his mirror, two ties in his hands, switching them back and forth holding them by his neck. As he did this, he did not notice the brown haired girl standing behind him watching.

"Big date today or something?" Emily asked keenly.

He turned for a moment to glance at her and suppressed a small smile. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he teased, turning his attention back to the ties.

"Need help?" Emily offered.

"Nope. I'm a grown man. I can pick out my own ties."

Emily snorted and hopped onto the bed behind him, swinging her legs up and twisting them into a pretzel as she watched her father struggle for style. "You sure about that?"

"Yup," he lied.

Emily nodded, deciding to give it a minute. "So…date or business?"

"Both, actually…" he answered distantly, finally tossing both ties down on the dresser and reached for a bottle of cologne instead.

"Oh, one of those. Well, be careful,"

He looked over his shoulder. "Was'at supposed to mean?"

"I mean don't mix business with your personal life. It get's ugly when that happens," Emily shrugged, now picking at her fingernails, trying desperately to appear casual and avoiding eye contact with her father.

"And how would you know?" Cal asked, now turned fully to her, eyes running over her face.

Emily could feel the gaze piercing her, and oh, how she hated it. "Nothing, forget I said anything. Just don't have too much fun, alright?" she muttered, moving off the bed.

"Oi," Cal snapped, moving with incredible speed to the doorway to block his daughter's escape, "Not so fast. What's this all about?"

Emily kept her head down, as if avoiding a predator's attack. "I told you, it's nothing," she gave him a quick, worried look, then decided to avoid Cal's hazel eyes and looked over to the dresser. "Go with the striped tie," she added, then pushed her way past him and left.

Cal dropped his arms to his side, letting them swing for a moment confused, deciding that he would never understand teenagers these days.

* * *

After a quick stop to The Lightman Group to get briefed by Reynolds and Foster, Cal found himself parking his Toyota outside of a bar in downtown Washington. He sat in his car, adjusting his tie and straightening his scarf, waiting on a text message from Reynolds.

There was still very little information to be said on Mrs. Martin, since apparently she wanted to keep an extremely low profile, despite her rich lifestyle. Respectable, sure. But they hadn't of even found a picture of the woman, so Cal didn't know what to look for. Setting up a meeting with her was also proving difficult, so Cal had decided to go with plan F, which was to "bump" into her at her favorite bar and woo her into spilling her soul to him. Casually, of course. As absurd as the plan sounded, it had been working quite well for him recently. It was amazing what a drink and a listening ear can do for a person, especially after a long day. However, it was going to be difficult to find her if he didn't even know what she looked like.

Robert had told The Lightman Group that his step mother liked going to one bar in particular every now and then to wind down. Cal was pleasantly surprised to see that this bar was not just a bar, but a pub. An Irish pub. The Dubliner. Though, he wasn't Irish, he still appreciated the feel of a European pub every once in a while. _The woman's got good taste_, he grinned to himself, sitting anxiously in his car.

His phone beeped as he received a text message from Reynolds. _Working on getting a photo, but Robert just texted her and she said she's already there but won't be staying long, so try and go for it. Tall and blonde, photo to come soon. Good luck. Don't f…_

Cal closed the text message before reading the end of it, slightly pissed at how Reynolds was treating him. Vegas was…the past. He needed to get over it. Cal didn't understand why it bothered everybody so much. What single, attractive man _doesn't_ have fun in Vegas? _Reynolds._ No, because even he had his fun with Gillian. Innocent fun, but fun. Which made Cal slightly jealous. But the Englishman shook his head, deciding that now was not the time to worry about it. They were all mere colleagues and adults at that. He looked in the rearview mirror to check his hair, which always looked just fine in its messy fashion, and climbed out of the car. Cal glanced up at the sky for a moment, briefly enjoying the light snowfall, then walked into the pub.

Inside was dark and smoky. Just the way he liked it. He looked down at himself, suddenly feeling slightly overdressed for such a place, watching as a few disheveled looking men gathered around the television in the corner watching a football game. A _true English_ football game, which also made Cal grin, since most Americans took 'soccer' as being a crap sport. _Bollocks. _

He glanced around, looking for his target. Tall, blonde, rich looking woman. Much to his horror, he saw there were three women in the room that matched the description. One sitting among the men watching football, though she didn't look like the rich type. Scratch her. One sitting at the bar alone, fiddling through her Gucci purse. One at a table wearing an expensive looking outfit, reading a book.

He was distracted for a moment as the corner burst into cheers as their team scored a goal. After a moment, the group began to break up, quickly running to the bar for a drink while the teams set up for the next round. _Focus, focus. _Cal took a deep breath, deciding to try the one at the bar first and strolled up casually to order a drink, pushing his way past a few blokes. He waved a lazy hand at the bartender, "Lager, please," he said strongly, his accent flowing.

Yes, that always got attention. The woman looked up from her purse with a coy smile. "Oh, you're English?" she asked, trying to sound sexy and failing miserably at it.

"Yea," Cal answered.

The woman gave a toothy smile and opened her mouth to say something, when Cal suddenly heard a voice from behind him.

"Forget it honey, he's not here to see you," said a cool, feminine voice. Cal turned to see the blonde woman from the football corner standing behind him, looking rather smug with a hand on her hip. "I can promise you that he's here for me,"

For a second, Cal was unsure of what to say. Two women in a pub fighting over him was sort of exciting, but extremely confusing. He heard a glass bottle being set down in front of him as the bartender said something along the lines of, "good luck,".

"Sorry, do I know ya?" Cal asked, trying to keep it cool.

"Clara Martin. And you're Dr. Lightman, the deception expert," she grinned. The Gucci blonde woman heaved an anxious sigh and moved from her seat, apparently wanting no part in what was going on. "And I'm quite sure you're here to interview me, correct?"

Cal tried very hard to suppress a grin because he knew he shouldn't be amused at all. His cover had been blown before he even started. He swung around in his seat and looked at the bartender again. "Better give me something harder there, mate. Whiskey, please."

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_AN: Yes, this chick is gonna give Cal a run for his money. Bahahaa. Anyway, I wanted to thank EVERYONE for all of the great reviews, they are really encouraging and i'm having a lot of fun with this story. More to come very soon, but only if you leave me pretty reviews! :) _


	5. Chapter 5

_Tah dah! I had way too much fun writing this one. Thank you so so so much again for the lovely reviews. They feed my thoughts, so give me more and you'll get another excellent chapter next time! :) _

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5.

The woman, who was extremely beautiful even in jeans and a hoodie, sat down next to Cal at the bar, watching him carefully as he downed the whiskey, then ordered another. "Better make it two," she winked.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," answered the bartender with a warm smile as he poured some glasses.

Cal's phone beeped again. He took it from his pocket and saw another text message from Reynolds. This time it was a picture. Yes, a picture of the woman sitting beside him, only in a dress, captured at a party someplace. _Yeah, great bloody timing there, mate, _he thought bitterly. Cal finally turned to her. "So, Clara," he began, looking her over, "not quite what I had expected."

"What? A woman can't enjoy a night out with the guys at the bar?"

"Of course. It's just interesting, that's all. No one expects a billionaire's wife to be hanging out in a joint like this,"

"Well, Ed doesn't like care too much for soccer, or sports in general. Unless it's golf, which is a boring sport anyway," she replied, sipping on the whiskey slowly. Cal, on the other hand, simply gulped it down in a quick and simple motion, then began to sip off the bottle of his lager. "Rough day?" she asked as she watched him.

"No, but it's about to be a rough night."

Clara raised an amused eyebrow. "Is that a fact?"

Cal instantly regretted his phrasing of that sentence. "How is it exactly that you know who I am now?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

Clara held up a delicately manicured finger as she reached behind her for her purse, digging out a large object. "I've been doing a bit of reading lately," she quipped, laying a black and red book on the bar. The title read _The Lies We Tell. _It was his book that he had just published a few months before. _With my bleedin' picture on the back. Good show there, Cal. _"Surprise," she said suddenly.

"Beg your pardon?"

"You showed surprise. For just a moment, when I took this out."

"You know, I think I'm the one who is supposed to be quizzin' you here, not the other way 'round," he said, pointing a limp finger at her. She raised her eyebrows as if to agree. "I assume you know why I'm here then."

"You think I want to kill my husband so I can have his fortune all to myself."

"Yup. I'm guessing this accusation 'as been made before?"

"I'm the young, beautiful wife of an old billionaire. When _haven't _I heard this?"

"True. So, are you going to?"

"Am I going to what?"

"Kill your husband." The bartender, who was passing at that moment, paused in front of the pair and gave them an odd look. Cal tossed a glare at him. "We're rehearsing for a school play, now shove off there, mate."

The man raised his hands passively and continued down the bar to collect empty glasses and bottles.

Clara waited until Cal's eyes were back focused on her own, so that she could answer his question confidently. "No, I'm not," she paused for a reaction from Lightman, but got nothing, so continued, "I love Ed. Our age difference is difficult sometimes, he may be rich and I may be young, but I still love him." She took another sip of her drink and stared at the glass. "We aren't very…romantic anymore, but our relationship is deeper than the physical. He has always taken care of me, especially when I was in a tough place when we first met. I'll admit, the money was a factor when I first met him. But there's something more there." She looked back into Cal's eyes. "I would never hurt him."

Cal was surprised again, but this time he made sure not to show it. Instead, he simply nodded his head, slowly, as he took a long gulp from the bottle. "You know what's strange? I think I believe you."

Clara tried to hide it, but relief slowly crept over her face. Not the kind of relief a criminal would have after getting away with a murder, but the relief of an innocent. And that was the reaction Cal was waiting for especially. She took a deep breath and then spoke again. "It was Robbie, wasn't it?" she asked quietly, her lips twitching.

"Hm?"

"Robert. He's the one that came to you about me, right?" her lip twitched again. _Contempt. _

"You two don't get along, do you?" Cal asked.

"No. He's hated me from the start." Clara replied sadly, but her face showed not only hurt, but a bit of anger as well. "He's like everyone else, thinking that I'm just after his father for the money. He's made our marriage a living hell."

Cal paused before answering. "Yeah, it was him. Seemed pretty sure of it, actually."

"Of course he was," she scoffed. "I know he hates me, but…he's been taking it to the extreme lately."

"Yea?" Cal asked, suddenly intrigued. "How so?"

"He's been acting really strange-…"

Cal watched as she trailed off, her calm eyes now staring wide over his shoulder. "What is it?" he asked, starting to turn.

"Don't turn around," she stopped him, quickly turning in her seat away from him, as if she weren't there with him at all.

He followed her lead, shifting his body away. From any on looker, they were two strangers in a bar. "Who's here?"

"Shut up, will you?" she hissed, waving her hand at the bartender. "Trouble. That's all you need to know." The bartender came over to her and she ordered a water. "Now, stop talking to me, we're not here together."

Cal nodded. He took a casual sip from his drink, tossed a few dollars on the bar, and then stood to make his way to the restroom. Or making it appear so, anyway. He rounded the corner, and then stopped to wait, peeking around the corner to see what was going on.

A tall man was approaching Clara as she swirled her water around, staring blankly at it. The man, who wore a long, tan trench coat and a black flat cap, had a long, soft face, but wore a hard expression that worried Cal slightly. He moved closer to Clara, leaning against the bar to face her, but did not take a seat. Cal leaned in closer to try to listen in.

"Good evening, Mrs. Martin," the man greeted softly as he touched the brim of his hat.

"What are you doing here?" Clara responded in a cold tone, not looking at him.

"You know damn well," he said through gritted teeth. He forced a gentle smile as he looked to the bartender and asked for a Scotch. "Just making sure you're keeping up on your end of our agreement." After receiving his drink, he waved a hand to dismiss the bartender.

Clara paused and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Of course, but I don't see why it's necessary for you to come here-…"

"Because I have reason to believe that you have other things in mind."

"Oh?" she asked, trying to stay cool.

The man leaned forward, faking politeness but his icy tone said completely the opposite. "Yes. Something along the lines of betrayal. And God knows, you don't want to go down that road."

Cal watched Clara tense up suddenly, her knuckles turning white from gripping her cup of water. Her soft face showed just a flicker of fear, but she quickly composed herself as she sat up straighter to show strength to the man. "I don't know what you're talking about-…"

The man grabbed her arm with a firm hand, making her flinch slightly. Cal could see that the man's face was full of frustration, which made Cal begin to worry. "Why don't we take a walk, shall we?" the man sneered.

That was Cal's cue. His heart rate picked up slightly, from both fear and excitement at a confrontation. He quickly moved from behind the corner and strolled over to Clara. "Ah, there you are, darling." He said casually, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking back and forth at both her and the man, who were both equally confused. "Who's your friend?"

"I'd hardly call him a friend," she muttered, moving her arm to get out of his grip, but he held on tight.

"Who the fuck are you?" the man snarled quietly.

"I believe I asked you first. And I don't think you should be touching the lady like that."

The back corner began to erupt with cries and shouts as the soccer game became more intense. Most everyone in the bar, including the tender, had migrated to the corner, leaving the three alone for a moment. "Just walk away, pal," the man warned.

Cal grinned cheekily and shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so, _mate_. Now why don'tcha buzz off, alright? We're havin' a date 'ere."

The man was growing impatient and Cal watched his face. His eyebrows began to draw together, his lids raised, and the under part of his eyes began to tighten. _The look of an attacker. _The situation was about to get terribly ugly and Cal knew it. "Watch it," he said quickly, harshly pulling Clara from her seat as the man began to reach into his jacket pocket. Cal jabbed a punch in the man's stomach and grabbed Clara's hand in one quick motion, buying them a few seconds to make a run for the door.

They shoved through the mess of tables around the bar as they ran, ducking as a silenced gunshot rang out over their heads somewhere. It went unnoticed, as the crowd stood in the back yelling wildly, but when another shot was fired, blasting out the front window, screams soon broke out. A couple shards of glass managed to catch Cal in the face but he carried on ignoring made it to the door, keeping their heads down, and ran outside, safe for just a moment in the cold night air. As the pair ran across the street towards Cal's car, he dug his hand into his pocket for his keys and unlocked the car from a distance. "Get in, get in!" he cried as they approached.

Very sadly, however, Cal watched his Toyota shift as one of the back tires was suddenly shot out. "Bollocks!" he shouted. Cal spun around briefly and saw the man standing in the doorway of the bar, taking aim at Clara to his right. He quickly sidestepped, grabbing her hand again and began to run as several shots quietly ran out into the night. The few people that were on the street let out yelps and dove behind parked cars and ran into various buildings, making Cal and Clara the only two apparent targets as they fled down the street. They weaved between cars along the side of the road as the listened to the sounds of bullets colliding all sorts of objects: pavement, metal on the cars, bricks on the building, and finally, one managed to collide with human skin.

Cal yelled out, no word in particular, as he felt a sharp pain in his left upper arm. He stumbled, losing balance for a moment and started to fall to the ground. Clara, however, caught his other arm and kept him from completely tumbling over and their momentum kept them going, though he ran just a bit slower now as he clutched his now bleeding arm. Two more shots rang out into the night, followed by an angry shout as the man ran out of bullets.

"This way," Clara panted, leading Cal around a corner into an alleyway, "my car is back here."

Cal grimaced as he shook his head. "Right,"

Sure enough, down the alley sat a black Mercedes, barely noticeable in the darkness. Clara whipped out her key, using the automatic ignition to start the car before they got there. She looked at Cal. "You ok?"

"Yea, I'm good," he said painfully. She let go of his other arm and they both ran to opposite sides of the car to get in. He felt horrible, getting into a beautiful piece of equipment only to have his arm bleed all over it. He looked in the glove compartment, hoping there would be some napkins stashed in there. Nothing but a map, some papers, a coffee tumbler, and a pack of cigarettes. He slammed it shut and instead grabbed at the scarf around his neck, bunching it up and applied some pressure to his arm, groaning quietly as he did.

Clara punched the gas and they peeled out of the alleyway, just missing a tall figure with a black hat as they turned onto the street. She sped down the mostly empty street until they got a few blocks away and around a corner, where they appeared to be in the clear. "We need to get you to a hospital," she said breathlessly.

Cal nodded in approval. "Yeah, that'd probably be a good idea," he groaned again.

"How is it?"

"I've been bloody shot, how do you think it is?" Cal snapped. He sighed, and apologized as he gingerly lifted the bloody scarf to inspect the wound. "It doesn't look too bad, couple stitches maybe." He took a deep breath and tried to focus on something else. "Now, excuse me but who the _fuck _was _that_?_" _

Clara shook her head, keeping her wide eyes on the road ahead. "No one…"

"Don't give me that crap, I took a bloody bullet for ya," Cal demanded, "Who was it?"

The woman sighed as she pulled the car in front of the hospital. "It's a really long story…I'll tell you, but after we get you checked out, alright?"

Cal stared at her, breathing heavily to control the pain. "You're lying," he said, causing her to roll her eyes.

"God damn you," she whispered. "Fine. I promise. We'll talk. But right now you're bleeding and it's getting all over my car," she threw the joke in to lighten the situation, "now move it."

Satisfied, Cal opened the door to get out, but stopped to turn to her again. "You'll be buying drinks next time, luv."

She suppressed a laugh and gave him a gentle shove. "Funny, now move it so I can go park and we can get you fixed up!"

Cal watched the Mercedes speed off, leaving black tire marks by the sidewalk. He stood for a moment, letting a few people pass by, giving odd and worried looks as the bleeding man stood in front of the hospital only staring at his scarf. _I liked this scarf, too, _Cal thought sadly as he turned to walk slowly into the building, Clara soon to follow.

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_Heh heh. Review my friends. Thanks so much! More to come soon. _


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: This chapter is a bit quieter than the last, I'm afraid. But there will be more action soon, I promise. I swear, Tim Roth is such an action man…there needs to be more guns and action in this show. Thus the origins of fanfiction, I suppose. Anyhow, here we go. Thank you again for the wonderful reviews, I appreciate every one of you who do so. Keep them coming, _please_, they are a writer's life-force. By the way…I hope some of you can share my sense of humor and spot the very small, minor Eddie Izzard reference in here. It's hidden…slightly…but if you recognize it…then well done, well done to you! Oh I love that man. Even in the heels. Anyway, back to LTM. Enjoy! _

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**6. **

Cal stood just outside The Lightman Group as he watched Clara's black Mercedes drive off into the cold night. He was preparing himself for what he was going to inform the gang when he'd walk into that building. His cell phone had died a couple hours earlier, while he was in the hospital getting patched up, so he hadn't been able to check in. Not that he would have anyway.

Four stitches and a sling for his left arm, and a butterfly bandage for one of the cuts on his right cheek from the shattered glass. _Lovely. _

He carefully took the sling from his arm and wound it up to shove into his big coat pocket. He didn't want to draw any more attention to himself than he had to. Luckily, he had worn black, so the bit of blood on his sleeve was barely noticeable. Although the bullet hole might be if one looked hard enough. _Damn I liked this coat too,_ he thought bitterly. Scarf and coat ruined in one night.

However, his core group was still there, waiting to hear from their boss-man. Cal made a beeline for his office, wanting to ditch his bloody scarf and coat as quickly as possible. He didn't want to startle anyone with it, Foster especially. He'd given her enough scares over the last few months. She didn't need to know about his evening's adventure.

Once safe in his office, Cal let out a grunt as he took his coat off of his tender arm. He was only wearing a t-shirt now, having ditched his dress shirt at the hospital. He didn't care too much for it, and it had been ruined anyway. He took the sling from his pocket and the scarf and stuffed it in one of the desk drawers, making a mental note to sneak them out of the building later when no one was around. He stood there by his desk for a moment, inspecting his bandaged wound and almost laughed. He'd done a pretty good job avoiding bullets as of late (up until now, anyway), considering how many times he's had a gun pointed at him recently. _When did this job get so bloody dangerous anyhow? _… he smirked. _Ah well. More fun that way. _He spun on his heel and walked into the study, where he always kept a few spare articles of clothing, just in case.

"Dad?"

Cal froze. _Oh hell. _"Em?"

"_What_ the _heck_ happened to you?"

Cal looked up at where the voice was coming from and saw his daughter sitting on the upper level of his study, iPod in one hand, and one a random book from the shelf in the other. "What are you doin' here, luv?" he asked nonchalantly as he reached up with his good hand to cover the bandages on his arm. "I thought you were at your mum's tonight."

"_What the heck happened to you_?" she repeated, this time more dangerously.

Cal continued on to find one of his old, ratty dress shirts and carefully swung it over his shoulders, wincing slightly as he pulled it over his bad arm. "Nothing. Just a few scratches. Whatchya reading there?"

Emily stood and began to climb down the stairs. "Will you stop _deflecting_?"

"I told you. It's nothing-…"

Emily glared.

"Got in a bar fight. Crazy football hooligans, lemme tell you." Cal pointed a finger at her. "You stay away from football, you hear?" He paused and thought. "_Soccer_. Whatever you people call it. May as well call it bananas…"

"_Dad,_" she warned, now on the last bottom step to be at eye level with him.

Cal took a deep breath, buttoning the last two buttons on his shirt, and looked at his daughter. "I got in a bit of a mess tonight, Em. That's all you need to know."

"Dad, you promised you'd never do something crazy like…"

"I didn't plan on this one. Honest. I was just trying to talk to a client and…things got a bit out of hand."

Emily reached out and lightly touched his face, where a scabbed up cut was, then cast a glance to his arm. "Are you ok?" Cal nodded. "You're stupid, I hope you know that." Another nod. "Are you going to tell me what really happened?" Nod. "Liar."

"I will when we get home. Speaking of which, where's your mum tonight?"

"Roger had a night planned for the two of them. A _romantic _night or something. I didn't want to be around for that."

Cal's stomach dropped slightly at the mention of Roger swooning Zoe. He was still getting used to the idea that his ex-wife was going to be married soon. It was a strange thought, but he didn't let it show. "Ah, well that's nice. Don't blame ya." He looked down as he straightened his shirt. "'Ow do I look then?" he asked quickly.

Emily shrugged. "Like crap. But better than before."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically. "Well I need to finish a few things here, d'ya mind waiting for a bit longer?"

"I'm good," she sighed, climbing back up the steps again.

Cal smoothly reached his arm out to catch her hand before she got up the step and pulled her back down into a gentle hug. "I love you," he whispered as he gave her a peck on the cheek. He had been surprised, yes, to find her here, but he was glad to see his girl after such a mess.

"You too, Dad," said Emily as she returned a quick kiss, then shoved him away. "Now go on, get. I wanna get home." He smiled and turned to head out of the study.

Across the hall was the lab, where Cal entered to find Reynolds and Torres. "Where the hell have you been-…"Reynolds started, but stopped when he saw Lightman's scratched and bandaged face. "…Lightman, you ok?"

"Oh yeah, wonderful,"

"What the hell happened?"

Cal found a rollie-chair to seat himself in and told them of the evening's events, trying to leave out the part where he got shot in the arm. "…she dropped me off outside and we're meeting after the weekend on Monday. She said she'd come here for a formal interview."

"But you say she's innocent in this?"

"Yeah," Cal answered, staring off into space, "…there was too much emotion in her voice, there's no way she'd hurt her husband." He paused, remembering something else just before the madness broke out. "Oh, but I want to check Robert a bit more."

Reynolds crossed his arms. "The kid?"

"Yeah. She's suspicious of him."

Reynolds looked to Torres, who was already a step ahead. "Right, I'll see if I can arrange to get him back in here sometime," she said.

Lightman nodded, which he regretted doing a second later when his head began throbbing some. It'd be a long day. Reynolds saw the man close his eyes for a moment, fighting back exhaustion, and stepped forward. "Lightman, are you sure you're alright?"

Cal looked up quickly, too quickly, while instinctively grabbing his arm. "Yea," he answered cooly, "I'm fine. Just tired. Bit worn out." Reynolds gave him a look. "What? I'm good. Promise." He stopped and looked around. "Where's Loker an' Foster?"

"Loker went on a snack run, Foster's in her office working." Torres answered.

"Ah. Right. Well, let's keep the fact that I was shot at tonight quiet 'round her alright? Not a word."

"Why?"

"She doesn't need to worry about it. That and I don't want her smothering me anymore than she has to."

The lab door swung open, revealing Loker with a soda and a bag of chips from the kitchen. "Woah, Lightman, you look like shit."

"Thank you," came a dry, sarcastic reply.

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Gillian Foster sat quietly at her desk, pretending to do some much-needed-to-be-done paperwork, but instead was staring ahead blankly. It had been several hours since Cal went to his "meeting" with Clara Martin, and no one had heard from him yet. Normally, during such a case, he would check in to eagerly point on that their client was lying or something to that affect, but they had heard nothing. This worried her slightly, but she didn't want to show it to her colleagues, so she had retreated to her office.

After a few minutes more of toying around with a stack of post-its, Gillian decided to go to the lab to check on Loker and Torres. She fixed her hair, which had gone slightly messy over the last few hours, and began to leave her office.

As she approached the lab door, which was closed, Gillian was quite relieved to hear a familiar voice inside. "…bloody crazy if you ask me…" the voice said with some strain.

She furrowed her eyebrows and walked inside, where she found both Loker and Torres, also Reynolds, standing off to the side, and of course, Cal. "How was the big date?" she chortled, but stopped herself short when she saw him.

Cal was hunched over in one of the swivel chairs, looking an absolute mess. When he had left the office, he'd look rather, well, handsome, in her book. _Of course he always does_, she thought quietly to herself. But now, his hair was messier than usual, he had a few cuts on his face, one bandaged, and he was wearing an old rumpled shirt that she's quite sure he got from his stash in the office. "Uh, Cal?" she started inquisitively.

"Hey, Foster. Glad you could join us. I was just-…"

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, peachy."

Gillian glared at him, then to Reynolds, who held his hands up and took a step back as if to say _Don't look at me, I'm not talking._ "What happened?"

"Got in a bar fight. Bit of a mess, but hey, we got some details on the wife." Cal said quickly. "She's agreed to come in and have a chat with us Monday morning."

After finishing his statement, he gave her a look saying _Don't push it, luv._ She nodded, respecting that damned "Line" they always spoke of. Obviously, from his appearance and his manner, there was something going on. But she also got the vibe that he didn't want to talk about it. That is what their "Line" was about. They were so good at reading people, including each other, but there were some things that would have to come out in due time. He'd tell her when he'd want to. Until then, she nodded and decided not to push it. Instead, she gave him an understanding nod, but her eyes were full of concern.

"Right then, I think I've had enough excitement for one night," Cal said wearily as he carefully stood from the chair, "See you all Monday morning then, eh?" And with that, he quickly fled from the room, avoiding odd stares from his employees.

Gillian waited probably a good…thirty seconds before going out after him thinking, _Damn the Line._ He was halfway to his office when she caught him. "Cal, wait."

He heaved a sigh. "Yes, Foster?"

"Are you ok-…"

"Yea, I'm bloody fine, alright? Everyone needs to just back off. I'm a grown man, I can handle these things," he said a bit harshly.

Gillian reached out her and to touch his arm. "I'm sorry…I'm just worried, that's all." She paused when she saw Cal flinch horribly as she touched his left arm, and saw a microexpression of pain flash across his face. He was definitely more hurt than he led on.

"I know, Foster, and I appreciate it, but I'd really just like to go home right now. Em's waitin' for me in the office to give me a lift and she's tired too."

"Where's your car?"

"Ran out of gas earlier," he answered quickly. Too quickly. Gillian was beginning to get annoyed at all the lies he was throwing at her. And he could read her irritation on her face. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look Foster…Gill, I'll fill you in on everything later this weekend. Before Monday rolls 'round. Just…don't worry about me, ok?" he said softly as he leaned forward to give her a hug.

She accepted the gentle embrace, even if it was slightly awkward with his injuries. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "it's what people do when they care for others."

"I know luv," Cal placed tender kiss on her cheek as he broke the hug, "and I appreciate it."

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_Had to toss in a tender moment for the Callians out there. More to come with those two of course...but not before some more DRAMA!!! Mwahaha. Gotta have the romantic angst...'specially since I'm using my own to fuel this story. Anyway. Ok, question to my readers...you guys want more of romance or more of action...or an equal blend of both? Cos I can do it any way you want. Orginally i was going to have a nice blend, but now I've decided I want to give my readers the choice. So, you let me know. Review review! :)_


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